


Boxing Day Blues

by zombiekittiez



Series: Agoraphobia [2]
Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Black is a cat, Developing Relationship, First Time, Insecure Shiro (Voltron), Jealousy, Love Confessions, M/M, Modern AU, Virgin Keith (Voltron), attention starved Keith, boxing day shenanigans, holiday fic, i accidentally wrote porn this was supposed to be heartfelt, keith pov, past keith whump, self improvement, shiro has agoraphobia, trickorsheith sequel
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-26
Updated: 2020-12-26
Packaged: 2021-03-11 05:34:22
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,565
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28340055
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/zombiekittiez/pseuds/zombiekittiez
Summary: Point number two: take the opening.“Well… would you want to spend it together? With me, I mean.”“Really?” Shiro looks surprised. “You don’t have, like… an office party or something?”Keith snorts. “I’m a mechanic, Shiro. We don’t want to spend our non-working hours staring at each other’s ugly faces any more than we have to. Kolivan’s giving us the weekend off and a bottle of midgrade scotch with our bonus check.”“I like scotch,” Shiro says shyly. “If you’re sure you don’t have other plans. I don’t want to take up all your time.”Please take up all my time, Keith doesn’t say.
Relationships: Keith/Shiro (Voltron)
Series: Agoraphobia [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2075358
Comments: 25
Kudos: 125





	Boxing Day Blues

Keith was never really big on Christmas. 

“Oh?” Shiro asks with genuine interest as the two of them linger over their weekly dinner together. Still kind of unbelievable, that sort of focus turned on him, even after a couple of months of this… 'friendship plus,' Regris had called it when Keith had grudgingly asked for advice. Regris might not be able to tell a Rover V8 from a Nissan Y, but he did have a phone full of contacts like _Hot Acxa (tattoo shop)_ and _Mohawk Guy (club)_ so Keith was willing to hear him out. 

“You’re not dating-dating yet but you’ve been on a date,” Regris had said sagely. “More than friends, not yet an exclusive label. Is he seeing anyone else?” 

“I don’t think so,” Keith replied a little guiltily. Not like Shiro has a lot of options when he’s still working out his agoraphobia. 

“What about you? Do you plan on seeing other people? Keeping your options open?” 

“I can’t imagine wanting to see anyone else,” Keith had said immediately. 

“Oh!” Regris had said, and Keith had scowled. “No, no, just… kind of unexpected. You’re a good looking guy and you have this _no fucks given_ aura thing. Kinda nice to see what’s under that red candy shell.”

“I’m not an M&M,” Keith had griped. 

“Sure you are. Sweet as sugar on the inside.” Regris had smirked, but good to his word had given a lengthy treatise on leveling up the romance game, about half of which Keith actually understood. Better than asking Lance, anyway. 

...though none of those talking points are going to matter if Keith doesn’t quit acting star struck every time Shiro pays him a little attention. He can’t help it. Nobody’s ever been interested in Keith for the sake of it before. He can’t even get past the bewilderment long enough to be flattered. 

“We didn’t have a lot of money growing up, and holiday pay goes a long way for a single dad.” Keith explains after a moment. “He always took the day after, though, and that’s when we did stuff.” 

“Boxing Day,” Shiro recalls. 

“Yeah,” Keith admits. _Point number one,_ he remembers. _Don’t be afraid of being vulnerable._

“Only... when I was real little, I thought it was Boxer Day and my dad kind of rolled with it. So we’d put on new Christmas boxers and dumb Christmas shirts and run around like that all day.” He tries to ignore the embarrassed flush creeping up his neck as he talks about things he’s never told anyone beside his Mom before. “He’d make biscuits and gravy and then we’d play games for little prizes- candy and little toys, stuff like that.” He laughs a little. “A lot of those were just G rated drinking games, like flip cup and beer pong with juice. You can take the guy out of the frat, but...” 

“You two were really close,” Shiro says softly. 

“We were,” Keith agrees, playing with the mug in his hands. Keith’s mug, Shiro had called it, ordered special online just for him. It matches the mug in Shiro’s left hand, white with a black cat painted on the side, only in red. How amazing it is that someone would save a place for him like that in their life on purpose and without hesitation. 

“When he passed and I went into the system, Christmas was just time that I had to be stuck in the house with people who were getting paid to pretend to love me. Maybe that’s not fair- but it’s how I felt at the time.” Keith confesses. “What about you?” He asks, clearing his throat subtly. “Did you like Christmas growing up?” 

Shiro mercifully allows the shift in conversation. “I spent most holidays back in Japan with my grandparents,” he explains. “It’s not celebrated quite the same way. New Years was always more important. When I was with Adam, we did all the holiday things together, but once I stopped leaving the apartment…” he shrugs. “Who knows what I’ll even do this year.” 

_Point number two: take the opening._ “Well… would you want to spend it together? With me, I mean.”

“Really?” Shiro looks surprised. “You don’t have, like… an office party or something?” 

Keith snorts. “I’m a mechanic, Shiro. We don’t want to spend our non-working hours staring at each other’s ugly faces any more than we have to. Kolivan’s giving us the weekend off and a bottle of midgrade scotch with our bonus check.” 

“I like scotch,” Shiro says shyly. “If you’re sure you don’t have other plans. I don’t want to take up all your time.” 

Please take up all my time, Keith doesn’t say. _Point three: don’t be desperate._

“I’ll keep it free,” Keith says, cool as anything. 

“It’s a date, then.” Shiro says, smiling. Keith lifts his mug to his face to hide his flush. 

~~

Keith’s first mistake is offering his own apartment for their Christmas Date. 

“You said you wanted to try spending more time in other parts of the building,” Keith reminds Shiro over the phone later when finalizing their plans. “And you can go back to your place at any time you’re uncomfortable.” 

“That would be… really helpful, actually.” Shiro says, relief coloring his voice. “It was my homework for the holiday from my therapist. To try and push my building boundaries, if I could.” 

Keith winces. Shiro’s not likely to want to try that more than once in a week. “If you had something else you wanted to do-” 

“No,” Shiro says again, quickly. “I just…” he hesitates. There's a quiet _mew_ at his feet. Black, has snuck in through the window from downstairs to visit. She taps the top of his foot with her paw impatiently so he drops down a bite of his chicken parmesan, minus the breading. “I didn’t want to invite myself over,” Shiro says finally. “But I’ve thought about it a while. It’ll be nice to see your place.” 

“Yeah, nice,” Keith echoes, looking around his bare apartment. There’s a single forlorn set of shelving he’d bought with his first paycheck, woefully empty aside from half a dozen thrift store books lying on their sides. A cheap red futon serves as his couch- it was his bed, too, for the first month or so he’d moved in. Now he’s upgraded to a mattress on the floor. The walls are completely empty. There isn’t even a dead houseplant on the window ledge to spark conversation. Shiro is oddly quiet on the other end. 

“You’re always welcome,” Keith says firmly, reading into the silence. “I want you to come by. I owe you for all those dinners.” 

“You don’t owe me anything,” Shiro says, voice faint. Keith feels like that might mean something else, but he’s remembering _point four: don’t force it._

“My place at six,” Keith says firmly. 

~~

Keith doesn’t realize it at first, but his second mistake is asking Regris for help. 

“Just for like an hour,” Keith wheedles. “Come on, you said you didn’t have anything going on till like seven.” 

“I _did_ say that,” Regris admits over the phone, sounding exasperated. “Nobody’s gonna turn up to Plaxum’s Extraterrestrial themed Christmas Party till eight or nine at least, but...” 

“I’m really desperate,” Keith admits through gritted teeth. 

“You’re making a big deal out of nothing,” Regris grumbles. “Send me a pic and I’ll give you some pointers, but I’m not taking the L train all the way out that way for a little redecorating.” 

Keith switches to the camera view and makes his way through the space, careful to take in the entire apartment room by room. He sends a flood of pictures and waits eagerly for the response. 

His phone rings. 

“.... I’ll be there in two hours,” Regris grunts before hanging up. 

~~

It’s three hours, actually, by the time Regris shows up with a text that just says _outside._

“Why do you have the shop truck?” Keith asks. “What’s all that stuff?” 

“Merry fucking Christmas,” Regris grins though he looks a bit put out. “And you’d know if you ever looked at the group chat.” 

Keith raises an eyebrow. “Somebody’ll tag me if it’s important,” he says automatically, but he reaches for his phone anyway. “Regris… did you share my apartment pics with the whole damn shop?” 

“I did,” Regris says, hopping down from the cab and walking around the far side of the truck to the back. “You can thank me later once I help you get _laid._ ”

“That’s not…” Keith frowns, unsure if he’s more concerned with the implied disrespect toward Shiro or the very real levels of shock and disbelief in the group chat about his living situation. He’s definitely been in worse looking homes when he was younger. At least his place is clean and there’s food in the cabinets. 

“In the heart. Heart laid.” Regris amends. “Anyway, all I did was alert Kolivan and the others to the fact that the newest Marmoran was living in poverty-” 

“I am _not-_ ” Keith begins hotly, but then Regris opens the back. “Oh,” he says instead, with interest. 

“Yeah,” Regris grins. “You know what a pain in the ass it is to get junk removal to take bulk items in the city. It’s got to be like the third full moon on a Wednesday or something. All this stuff is donated courtesy of Marmora Motors. Everybody had something they wanted getting rid of, and god knows you need it.” 

“I don’t know what to say,” Keith says uncertainly. 

“Don’t say anything,” Regris advises. “You live on the fifth floor, right? Save your breath and start lifting.” 

It’s exhausting work, sweating and grunting their way up and down and up and down but at least Coran’s given the all-clear to leave the truck parked out front as long as they need. It means Regris can stick around, helping to unbox and unpack and adjust. 

Keith takes a long look around when they’re finished. The cheap red futon is pushed against the wall, but there’s a nice black cushy blanket and a couple of throw pillows that make it look a lot classier than before. A side table with a trimmed down coaster hot glued to one of the back legs to keep it from wobbling sits next to it with a Himelayan Salt Lamp glowing softly on top. There’s even a little tube TV on a tiny stand looping a fireplace DVD Regris bought years ago as a joke from Goodwill, and a sincerely ugly purple grey carpet rolled out on the previously bare floor. An enormous and clearly amateur painting of space with flecks of white and silver stars hangs behind the couch and a few large chunks of clear quartz, amethyst and agate decorate the bookshelf, spacing the newly acquired books to look somewhat deliberate. 

“Crystal Healing for Beginners?” Keith reads off one spine as Regris rests on the counter, pulling his sweaty shirt away from where it sticks to his skin. 

“Antok’s into New Age shit, he’s always putting rocks places. He says your chakra’s muddy, whatever that means. Why’s it a million degrees in here?” 

“Sunlight? I usually have the window open but Shiro can hear downstairs when I do. I didn’t want the moving noises to bother him.” Keith shrugs. “I just don’t wear a shirt most of the time.” 

“When in Rome,” Regris sighs, peeling off his shirt and using it to mop his face. “Good thing I’ve got time to shower after I drop off the truck.” 

“What time is it?” Keith asks just as a knock sounds at the door. 

“Shit.” Keith groans. It must be six, and he’s a complete mess. Still, leaving Shiro in the hallway isn’t going to help anything so he yanks open the door. 

“Hi,” Shiro says, holding out a familiar tupperware container. “I made cookies for dessert. The M&M kind.” 

“Sorry,” Keith blurts. “I lost track of time, I haven’t even started dinner yet.”

“That’s alright,” Shiro says, brows knitting in concern. He steps inside to look Keith over. “Are you okay? You’re all sweaty…” His eyes flicker behind Keith and he freezes. Keith glances back behind himself where Regris is pulling his shirt back on. 

“I was just leaving,” Regris says awkwardly. 

“Oh,” Shiro says. 

“This is Regris from work. Thanks for helping me, Regris,” Keith says quickly, not understanding or liking the sudden heavy atmosphere. “I know you’ve got to get going, so…” 

“Right,” Regris says. He looks at Shiro carefully, then smiles. “Shiro, right? It’s nice to put a face to the name.” 

“Uh huh,” Shiro says. 

“Welp, I better jet. Hey, you know Plaxus’ things always go super late, so… if you two wanted to come, I can text you the address. Free booze,” he says cheerfully. 

“We’re good, thanks,” Keith says. 

“See ya Monday,” Regris waves, stepping out into the hall, closing the door behind him. 

Shiro isn’t looking at Keith. He’s cradling the tupperware close to his chest with his left arm. 

“Sorry,” Keith says again. “Regris was just-” 

“He’s not ugly,” Shiro murmurs. 

“Huh?” Keith is sure he’s misheard. 

“Nothing. Nothing, sorry.” Shiro seems to shrink into himself. 

“Don’t be sorry, Shiro. You’re fine. He was just doing me a favor and helping me move some stuff around.” Keith tries to explain. He’s not sure how but things seem to be rapidly spinning out of control. 

“This is new,” Shiro says, looking at the room instead of looking at Keith. “A lot of it’s new.” 

“Yeah, Regris ran it by today- it’s from the guys at the shop,” Keith says, then pauses. “Wait. How did you know it was new?” 

“Halloween,” Shiro says quietly. “I saw in on the way up to the roof. That must have been a lot of stuff to bring up.” 

“It was fine,” Keith says, trying to hide his mortification. So much for first impressions, Shiro already knew how pathetically Keith was living. “We brought it up the two of us.” 

“I could have helped,” Shiro whispers. 

“Shiro-” 

“Sorry. I’m sorry, I think I have to-” Shiro shakes his head, backing away toward the door. 

“Yeah,” Keith says immediately, zeroing in on the way Shiro’s hand shakes on the cookie container. “That’s… that’s okay.” He walks around Shiro, opening the door like an offering. 

“Some other time, maybe,” Shiro says, and flees. 

But Keith knows there won’t be. 

~~

Keith decides that rather than wrestle the rib roast he’d splurged on from the specialty butcher uptown, an ideal Christmas dinner post humiliating disaster of a three minute date is a half a bottle of scotch. 

Half a bottle of scotch later, Keith decides that really, it’s the holidays. He deserves a full bottle to himself. 

It’s so hot. It’s always hot in Keith’s apartment, but now there’s the fireplace. TV. TV fireplace. DVD? Anyway, it’s hot. Keith forgets why it’s a bad idea and crawls over to the window, wrestling it open. It takes a few tries before he realizes it’s locked- then he’s so enthusiastic about it that he falls right through, landing on his back on the cold metal of the fire escape. 

“Ow,” he grunts quietly. 

It’s kind of nice. It’s not snowing though it’s been threatening to, so he doesn’t have to worry about getting wet. He can look straight up through the slats of the stairs leading up and see the sky. It’s that blueish grey that the sky gets when there’s too many lights and there aren’t many visible stars, but it’s still pretty. 

Something nudges against his foot. 

“You better not be a rat,” Keith threatens, voice a little slurry. Black slinks up his leg, settling on his chest. “Oh, hey. I know you.” Keith says, pleased. He rumples her ears which are so nicely warm and furry under his fingers. They sit like that a while. 

“I fucked up,” Keith says quietly. 

“No you didn’t.” 

The voice is so low that Keith thinks he might have imagined it- that it might be coming from the cat. But he knows that voice, even dead drunk on the fire escape. 

“Hi Shiro,” Keith murmurs.

“Hi Keith,” Shiro answers from his apartment downstairs.

Black purrs. 

This is okay, Keith decides. This is how it started, and maybe this will be how it ends. Shiro is so many things, so much bigger than Keith in every way. He’s like one of those crystals upstairs, a new facet always glittering, fascinating from every angle. At least they’re still talking. He even thinks he can hear Shiro say his name once or twice in his drowsy stupor. 

Keith blinks. A shadow falls across him, blocking the building lights shining down over his face. 

“Come on,” Shiro says gently. “You’re going to catch your death out here.” 

“Were you calling me?” Keith asks, disoriented. Black steps off his chest, watching as Shiro leans down and helps Keith up. 

“I was. You fell asleep, I think.” Shiro’s big so it takes a little maneuvering to get them both through the window and back into Keith’s living room. Black follows after them, curiously making her rounds of the room and sniffing at each newly acquired item with great interest. Keith slumps onto the couch, foot accidentally kicking against the empty scotch bottle. It rolls to a stop at Shiro’s feet. 

“You drank too much. Half of this was supposed to be mine,” Shiro says, attempting to sound light as he walks over to the trash to get rid of it. 

“Didn’t think you’d want to drink with me anymore.” Keith says. “‘M sorry.” 

“Why are you sorry?” Shiro asks, tone measured. 

“Made you uncomfortable,” Keith explains. 

“Why did Regris know who I was?” 

“Told him about you,” Keith admits. “Asked for advice. He dates an’ stuff.” 

“But he didn’t know I’m agoraphobic,” Shiro sounds confused. The light is too bright. Keith throws an arm over his eyes to block it. 

“None of his business,” Keith huffs. 

“I don’t understand. What kind of advice do you need if it’s not about that?” Shiro takes a tentative step toward Keith and away from the door and window. Maybe that’s a good sign. 

“Everything,” Keith says, waving his free arm emphatically. He’s never dated before and never cared about that, but now he wishes he’d been on a hundred dates if it meant he could do this thing with Shiro right. 

“Drink this water, please,” Shiro interrupts him. 

“Was I talking?” Keith asks wonderingly, obediently taking the glass. 

Shiro, face flushed, sits down next to Keith. Black jumps up in the space between them, demanding pets. They comply, careful not to brush hands. 

“I’m sorry I left,” Shiro says finally. “I got upset. I was jealous that there was someone else here with you, and jealous that you asked someone else for help, and jealous that I couldn’t bring things up from a truck right outside because I might have a panic attack. It’s a struggle not to spiral into the bad thoughts. Not all the time, but enough. I’m... not doing okay, Keith.” 

“Yeah you are,” Keith says, surprised into sitting up. “You’re doing amazing. That’s why it’s so hard. You can’t see it cause you’re too close to it, but you really are.” 

“You think so?” Shiro whispers. 

“I know so,” Keith says confidently. Then he grimaces. 

“What’s wrong?” Shiro asks. 

“Ugh,” Keith says. 

Which is how they end up on Keith’s bathroom floor, Shiro holding Keith’s hair back while Keith curls over the toilet, retching miserably. Then he coaches Keith through brushing his teeth and peeling off his shoes and jeans, getting Keith into his still bare bedroom and onto the mattress on the floor. 

“Guess Regris missed in here,” Shiro murmurs.

“Huh?” Keith asks blearily. 

“Nothing,” Shiro says, sounding guilty. 

“Not supposed to see in here,” Keith realizes sulkily. 

“Sorry,” Shiro says. 

“Not ready,” Keith explains. 

“Not ready,” Shiro repeats. “The apartment?” 

“Didn’t want you to know,” Keith says, rolling over to press his face against the cool pillowcase with a happy little sigh. 

“Know what?” Shiro asks. 

“Didn’t have nothing. Not nice for you.” 

“For me?” Shiro pauses where he’s pulling the blanket up over Keith. 

“Nice for you,” Keith agrees. “So can I?” 

“Can you what?” Shiro asks. Fingers skate through Keith’s bangs tentatively and Keith butts his head up into the caress. 

“Try again?” Keith asks. 

“Go to sleep, Keith.” Shiro says and Keith obeys. 

~~

Keith wakes up with a monster hangover and a perfect recollection of the night before. 

“Shit,” he says before he even sits up. 

Well, if Shiro had been on the fence about giving Keith a second chance before, that drunken display torpedoed it dead in the water. 

Keith rubs his face before resigning himself to the fact that he will have to get up and face a deeply mortifying apology to a very understanding and no longer interested love interest through no fault of anyone but himself.

Keith walks out of his bedroom and stumbles to the kitchen where he pours himself a glass of water and gulps it down with a couple of aspirin. He puts the glass in the sink before he sees the bundle of red and green on the counter. There’s a note under the present. 

_Merry Christmas, Keith._

_I hope you’re feeling okay this morning. Take a hot shower and then open your present. And then if you still wanted to try again, give me a text and I’ll be there with bells on._

_Yours,_

_Shiro_

Try again. 

Keith practically waltzes into his bathroom, giving everything a quick once over clean before hopping into the shower. His face is still a bit pale and his eyes a little red, so he sends Lance an SOS text. A few minutes later, a knock sounds at the door. 

“Don’t know why you’re asking me for help,” Lance says sourly, looking Keith up and down where he stands in only a towel.” Just show up like that and Shiro will be plenty happy.” 

“Are you gonna help me or not?” Keith pleads. “I really need this to go well today.” 

“Yeah, yeah.” Lance whips out the Visine in one hand, a high powered hair dryer in the other. “Gimme twenty minutes and you’ll be good as new.” 

True to his word, not even a half an hour later and Lance is scampering out the door. 

“You owe me infinite oil changes,” he shoots over his shoulder as he disappears into the elevator. 

“Thanks,” Keith calls. 

He looks down at the unopened package in his hands. It’s soft. Clothes, maybe? Whatever it is, Keith’s willing to wear it. 

He opens the present. 

~~

Shiro knocks tentatively at the door about ten minutes after Keith sends the text. 

“It’s open,” Keith calls from the kitchen. 

Shiro steps inside carrying a jug of fruit punch and a pack of Christmas colored Solo cups. He’s wearing a big fluffy robe and slippers and he takes one look at Keith and laughs. 

“You’re wearing it.” He says, smiling. 

“Yeah,” Keith grins back from where he’s scrambling eggs in red boxers printed all over with little sprigs of holly and a matching t-shirt proclaiming this to be a _Holly Jolly Christmas._ “I can’t believe you remembered.” 

“How could I forget Boxer Day?” Shiro asks. Keith checks on the sausage gravy and biscuits in the oven while Shiro disappears down the hall. It’s still a little embarrassing that Shiro knows how he lives, but it’s also nice to see Shiro so comfortable here in Keith’s space. When he emerges, bathrobe left neatly hung on the back of Keith’s door, it’s Keith’s turn to laugh. 

“I thought that was just a saying,” he says, gesturing at Shiro’s silver bell printed black boxers and matching t-shirt that says _Bells On!_

“Do you mind if I let Black in?” Shiro asks shyly. 

“Please do. I got a can of tuna with her name on it for the holiday. _Albacore._ ” Keith confides. 

“I love you, Keith,” Shiro says casually, leaning down to open the window. Keith freezes. Black climbs in immediately, and Shiro scoops her up in his arm. “I didn’t want to say. I thought it might be too soon, and I was worried about holding you down. I don’t want you to feel obligated or anything- don’t be with me just because I’m… lonely.” 

“Ow,” Keith says belatedly as he registers the heat coming through the sheet pan and thin dishtowel, singeing his fingers. He shoves the pan on the counter with a clatter. 

“Are you okay?” Shiro asks, dropping Black and hurrying over. 

“I’m lonely,” Keith blurts when Shiro touches him. 

“Oh, I- here, under the cold water. Keith, you have all kinds of people in your life-” 

“I’m lonely without you.” Keith says, promptly forgetting points one through sixteen as Shiro holds his wrist under the cool running water gently, like he might bruise under the spray. “You’re the only person I’ve ever met that makes me feel like I’m important and special. I’m crazy about you, Shiro.” 

Shiro leans down and kisses Keith. The first touch is soft and warm, then it turns quick and needy. Keith barely registers when Shiro turns off the water, too focused on the flick of Shiro’s tongue in his mouth, foreign but welcome. 

“Wait,” Keith breathes out, pressing his uninjured hand against Shiro’s firm chest. Shiro steps back. “The stove-” 

Shiro turns, cutting off the burners and moving the various foodstuffs to the counter, cushioned under dishclothes and potholders. 

“Is that okay?” Shiro asks, turning back to Keith and crowding him against the cabinet. Another kiss, heated and wet. Shiro’s hand comes up behind Keith’s waist, fingertips nearly spanning his back where his shirt rides up baring his smooth skin. Shiro digs his thumb in there, massaging a little and hiking Keith’s shirt up a little more. 

“Uh-huh,” Keith manages between kisses. He’s done this part once or twice out of teenage boredom but the hand skimming beneath his clothes is uncharted territory- he feels flustered and overwhelmed and wanting. 

“Bed?” Shiro asks, and Keith is acutely aware of how little their Christmas boxers are hiding. 

Keith hesitates. 

“Or not?” Shiro says immediately, pulling back to look at Keith. “We don’t have to.” 

“I want to, I… it’s just I’ve only got a mattress on the floor,” Keith croaks, embarrassed. Shiro’s got to want better than that- Keith doesn’t even have a box spring. 

Shiro pauses, then nuzzles in against the side of Keith’s neck. “I don’t want to be forward,” Shiro murmurs into the skin there, accidentally-on-purpose bringing his knee up to graze against the front of Keith’s boxers and press against the growing hardness there. “But I’d fuck you on this countertop if it wouldn’t ruin the home cooked breakfast you made us.” 

“Bed,” Keith says immediately. 

Shiro gets him down the hall and onto the mattress in a haze of hands and kisses, till Keith is sprawled on his back in just his boxers, watching as Shiro pulls his own shirt off one handed and devastatingly casual. 

“What?” Shiro asks, smiling though his eyes are uneasy. 

“You,” Keith says honestly. “You’re beautiful.” 

Shiro closes his eyes as if savoring the words, then he leans down, pulling Keith’s boxers off with one quick firm motion. “Mm,” he says, just looking down with a pleased expression. “What can I do to you?” 

“Anything,” Keith says, trying not to shiver as Shiro’s hand ghosts along his front from neck to navel. 

“What do you like?” Shiro asks. 

“I don’t know,” Keith murmurs. 

“Mm?” 

“I haven’t done this before,” Keith says clearly, eyes fixed on the ceiling. 

“Oh.” Shiro sits back on his heels. “Did… did you want to?” 

“Yes!” Keith’s eyes meet Shiro’s fiercely. 

“With me? Now?” Shiro asks a little nervously. 

“Yes,” Keith says again, and even though he’s so embarrassed and confused and shy and ecstatic that he doesn’t know if he can stay in his own skin even, he has enough focus to take Shiro’s left hand and guide it up his thigh to rest on Keith’s erection. He whimpers quietly at the contact, light as it is. 

“Baby,” Shiro murmurs, leaning down. “Trust me?” 

“Yeah,” Keith breathes, whimpering again when Shiro presses a kiss against the inside of Keith’s thigh. His hand slides down to cup Keith’s balls and squeeze gently, then back up to guide the shaft into Shiro’s waiting mouth. 

Keith moans long and low as Shiro sucks him deep, pulling back to kiss the tip and lick it clean before going in even deeper than before. 

“You’re so good at that,” Keith manages to say, dazed and struggling not to cum right away. 

“Thought about it a lot,” Shiro admits, sounding shy despite the way he’s been lavishing attention on Keith’s cock. “If you would let me suck you off under the table after dinner-” 

“Shiro-” Keith squirms as Shiro begins stroking up and down, hard but slow- torturously slow. 

“Even if you didn’t want to be with me, maybe if I fucked you hard enough I could ruin you for anyone else-” 

Keith gasps for breath. The pace is so good, so firm, but not enough-

“Fuck me,” Keith begs. 

“Yeah?” Shiro’s breathing is rough as he presses a kiss against Keith’s side, content to touch and squeeze Keith everywhere, learning him in ways even Keith had never bothered finding out. “Want me to? I’ll be so good, Keith. Best you’ll ever have.” 

It takes all of his focus to twist away from Shiro and reach between the mattress and the wall to pull out a bottle of lube. 

“Prove it,” Keith challenges, shoving the bottle at Shiro. 

He’s not exactly sorry when he’s trembling, knees up and crooked over Shiro’s shoulders while Shiro mouths at Keith’s cock and stretches him open with his fingers. Even when Shiro twists two fingers expertly and Keith cums with a punched out moan, Shiro just swallows it down and continues lapping at the head of his softening cock, massaging and adding fingers and pressure until Keith is hard again and straining and whimpering a low litany of Shiro’s name. 

“I think you’re ready,” Shiro murmurs, drawing back and wiping his hand on his own abs, glistening and sexy in the afternoon light. “Do you feel ready?”

“I feel like I might die if you’re not in me right now,” Keith answers, a little out of his mind with how badly he wants it. 

“It’ll be easier on you if we flip you over,” Shiro suggests, hand back on Keith to steady him. “Do you mind it that way?” 

Keith sits up, pulling Shiro down into a kiss. It’s sloppy and wet and Shiro tastes like Keith, but it’s grounding. He draws back and rolls over, tilting his hips up on raised knees. 

“Baby,” Shiro says, running a thumb over Keith’s hole appreciatively. His hand slides around, pressing against Keith’s middle and holding him up and steady as Shiro presses his cock slowly inside. 

“Alright?” Shiro asks, pausing just past the tip. 

“Mm,” Keith manages. His knees are trembling, but Shiro’s splayed hand keeps Keith perfectly aligned. 

“Talk to me, baby,” Shiro says, a hint of worry creeping into his tone. 

Keith can’t focus. He digs his elbows into the mattress, raising himself up for leverage and then guides his hips back hard, fucking Shiro in deeper. Caught off guard, Shiro grunts and curls in over Keith’s back. 

He can’t. He just wants Shiro so bad, wants all of him, wants to be fucked, wants to fuck him, wants him in every way, wants him to be the only one who ever gets to touch Keith like this- 

“Yeah, baby. Yeah, Keith.” Shiro agrees as Keith moans and begs, canting his hips in short little thrusts that makes Keith want to rut against the sheets. He arches back, one elbow keeping him upright, the other hand sliding down to curl around his own cock. At the first stroke Shiro’s movements lose their rhythm. 

“So tight,” Shiro pants. “Keep touching yourself-” 

Keith jerks himself a few more times and Shiro presses hard against him, staying deep as Keith feels the warm twitch of Shiro’s cock emptying inside. It pushes Keith over the edge, spending against the sheets in a hot rush. 

The post fuck euphoria sweeps away the last dregs of Keith’s hangover. They rest close together for a few long happy minutes. Then Shiro presses a kiss against the back of Keith’s sweaty neck. 

“You know, Boxer Day might be my new favorite holiday,” Shiro says innocently. “What’s next on the agenda?” 

“Shower and breakfast,” Keith says firmly. “And… I dunno. Flip cup? I’ll warn you, though, I won three Christmases straight once.” 

“Bring it on. They used to call me the Champion,” Shiro says seriously. “What do I get if I win?” He pulls away from Keith with a sigh. The sheets are a mess, Keith notes. Good thing there’s a spare set in the linen closet now. Shiro watches Keith stretch and sit up with marked appreciation. It makes Keith flush… and gives him an idea. 

“If I win… you ride me,” he suggests a little shyly. “If you win, I ride you.” 

Shiro’s eyes light up. 

(Turns out they both win.)


End file.
